


the 1

by artificialmac



Series: folklore fics [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28565208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialmac/pseuds/artificialmac
Summary: Brock and Jose sit across from each other in a small cafe in the middle of nowhere. They don’t say much, but they don’t need to.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Series: folklore fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093043
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	the 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so I did a bit of a different format from my usual songfics for this fic here and I took out my favorite lines from the song and threw them into the story where they seemed to fit. I hope you like this shake up from the normal fics and I hope you look forward to the other Branjie songfics in this series! (which will be coming out sporadically as inspiration strikes) (((sorry lol))

_**I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit; been saying “yes” instead of “no”** _

They were at some cafe in the middle of nowhere and Brock would rather be anywhere else.

The whole cast of the season 11 tour was currently packed into one booth meant to seat five people at most. This resulted in quite a few interesting pairings with Nina and Silky pressed up against each other, nearly sitting in each other’s laps. Scarlet and Yvie sitting on either side of the table, trying to avoid making heart eyes at each other and failing miserably. And himself and Jose flush against each other sat between Shuga and Plastique, who were having a conversation Brock couldn’t care to listen to. He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that told him to take advantage of the situation, to lean into their already overzealous contact. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he made himself as small as possible.

Jose did the same or tried to at least. Both their actions only got them pressed impossibly closer still.

“You come here often?” Brock threw out lightly.

_**In my defense, I have none; for never leaving well enough alone** _

Jose laughed, open and honest. It rang in Brock’s ears as he watched Jose’s smile fade quicker than it should have.

They averted their eyes again. Brock started counting the tiles on the floor. He made it to 27 before the waitress came and asked them politely to split up their group for fear of upsetting other patrons. Silky made to argue that it was three am and there were no other damn patrons, but Asia, ever the class act, agreed and started telling people to get lost. 

Brock was one of the first ones out of the massive scuffle that ensued and grabbed a booth only a table away from the main group. Silky and A’keria took the table by the wall and started gossiping loudly. Nina made a move to sit with Brock, but Jose got to the booth first. Nina stood there shocked for a moment before throwing her hands up and backing away slowly.

She wasn’t the only one shocked.

Brock looked across the table at his ex and tried to come up with something to say, but words failed him at that moment.

Jose got that weird look on his face like he was about to say something serious, something serious and terrifying and real. Too real for 3 am in a cafe in the middle of nowhere. 

Luckily, or unluckily, the waitress came over just in time to impassively take their orders. 

Jose asked for something ridiculous sounding that apparently was some sort of special the cafe had on, and Brock just ordered eggs: sunny side up.

As the woman puttered away, mumbling something about taking her break, an uneasy silence fell between the two ex-lovers. 

They looked at each other for a moment, and Brock was shocked to find that Jose’s smile hadn’t changed. The creases beside his eyes, the lines in his forehead that he so liked to worry between his forefingers, hadn’t changed a bit. Jose sat before him every bit the man he had gotten to know on national television, albeit with a bit straighter of a smile and a great deal more emotional baggage.

Brock found himself beating himself over the head for that last bit. Though he supposed Jose didn’t look worse for the wear because of it. The dancer found himself idly wondering if perhaps their previous relationship had mattered much at all to the younger man, but he shook his head at the thought. It was far too early for these kinds of internal conflicts.

Jose, seemingly attuned to Brock’s weird-sad wavelength let the corner of his mouth twitch up in mischief before leaning closer, across the table to whisper shout to Brock. 

“If you keep thinkin’ so loud, I’m gonna have to smother you, and I know you into some freaky shit, but yo death ain’t gonna be half as sexy as that.”

Brock let a bit of the tension dissipate from his shoulders as he threw his head back with a raucous laugh, one that caused his stomach muscles to ache from exertion and several pairs of eyes to whip in their direction. 

He wasn’t bothered.

Brock and Jose had spent a good portion of their relationship and subsequent breakup being watched by others. He was frankly used to it by now.

Let them stare.

As his laughter burned out into half-giggles, Brock met Jose’s eyes again. The younger man was beaming, glowy, and electric, and Brock had the sudden urge to ask him if when he looked in the mirror he ever blinded himself.

But rather than that, Brock choked out in a playfully concerned tone, “Are you feeling better?”

Jose had been dog shit sick the past few weeks, hacking and sneezing and causing more of a raucous than normal.

But this was apparently not the right thing to say, as Jose’s face fell. Rather than the carefree, bubbly personality, Jose’s response was tight-lipped, edged in unvoiced anger.

“Why you always worryin’ ‘bout me like that?” He rolled his eyes pointedly. “It ain’t like we together-“

_**But we were something don’t you think so?** _

There was a long silence as Brock struggled to find the appropriate response to his ex’s outburst.

Jose beat him to it, apology written plainly in his features. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Brock’s eyes fell to the table that separated them, tracing the small cracks in the plaster with his finger absentmindedly. “Umm… how’s the show coming? Your one-woman show?” He asked the table. 

_**I had this dream you’re doing cool shit; having adventures on your own** _

Jose exhaled gently.

Good. Work. Work was always safe to talk about.

“Good, yeah.” He nodded. “Startin’ rehearsals next week with the dancers and shit.”

“Oh wow. So soon?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep busy.”

“I know how that feels.”

“Yeah.”

_**I guess you never know, never know** _

Brock was envious of how easy work talk came to him.

Brock was envious of how easy love seemed to come to Jose. 

Great, big, bright, beautiful love that made him shimmer and shine like silver.

Jose had been Brock’s first relationship, the first real love of his life. 

Brock had been another one of Jose’s lovers that failed him.

Since the end of their time together Brock had realized that love, however complicated it may seem, was so so fascinatingly simple at the end of the day. He went back over every memory, every second he had witnessed in the younger man’s presence a thousand times over, and he always did something different, something more. He held Jose closer, or he smiled wider.

Or he asked him to stay.

_**And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed** _

Jose glanced up from his plate of food that suddenly appeared in front of him, meeting Brock’s eyes again.

The weird-sad wavelength made them hold their gaze for a tick longer before they both relaxed.

Gentle smiles were traded back and forth as the tension eased in the air. 

Smiles that said ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I know’ and ‘I don’t blame you’ and ‘I wish things were different’ all in the same breath.

_**And it’s alright now** _

They ate in relative silence, only breaking the spell to crack a joke or poke fun at their fellow sisters’ antics in the neighboring booths.

If Brock didn’t know better, he’d say he was actually having fun.

But the reserved way Jose talked, the hushed tone that followed his booming laughter didn’t come as easily as it once had. And Brock cursed his own heart for thumping at the notion that Jose was different around him. 

More subdued than before.

Gone was the gentle, careful Jose that stretched so wide in the morning that he undoubtedly knocked something off his bedside table, resulting in a string of curses and a very alert Brock.

Gone was the loving, peaceful Jose that kissed down Brock’s body reverently, embalmed him with his gaze, statuesque in his worship. 

Gone was the silly, doting Jose that danced around in Brock’s kitchen, making a mess and also the best food Brock had ever tasted in his life.

_**And if my wishes came true; it would’ve been you** _

He didn’t have the luxury of seeing that Jose anymore. He didn’t have backstage passes, or even front row seats. Brock was stuck in the nosebleeds with a broken heart and two runny eggs that tasted like stale kisses.

_**But it would’ve been fun; if you would’ve been the one** _


End file.
